Watch Me Burn- Redux
by Varmint
Summary: It's baffling what they tell us our job is. Tell us we fight the 'real' monsters; the supervillains of the world. But, how wrong the League is, trying to feed me these lies. I know the real monsters, I've fought them. I've killed them. I'm Wally West, and I'm not the Kid Flash you all know. I'm the real monster. Psychopath/Serial Killer!Wally! High T! Violence, insanity, and death!
1. Prologue

It's sick, really. The way they laugh and joke, playing around as if nothing could ever touch them. Always feeling as if they were some great force that no evil could ever truly touch. Ever ignorant to the fact that they were some of the most horrendous people I had ever had the misfortune of having met in my life.

Justice was pure and concrete, while corruption was merely a foreign term used for those ex-governments that they learned about in history: non-existent to them.

Even though it didn't exist in their vocabulary, corruption was all around them. It enshrouded them, wrapped its sickly yet overbearing arms around them, covered their eyes to blind them from the truth. Corruption lived and thrived in our little team, hidden by ignorance and unknowingly loved by their benevolence.

The others were blinded to it. _I wasn't_.

The way M'gann or Artemis would stab you in the back if coerced convincingly had never been lost on me. I was not ignorant to the fact that, if threatened correctly, Superboy would give up all our secrets. All it took was a simple threat to M'gann's life and that clone was a malleable pawn. And I was more than aware about how Kaldur'ahm, our great and noble leader, would drop us in the middle of _hell_ if instructed to do so by his supposed _king_.

Even Batman- the untouchable, infallible, virtuous, and ever righteous Dark Knight of Gotham- so great and so just, the justice oriented and never wavering Bat would do everything and _anything_ in his power to ensure Robin's life, even if it meant having to leave someone to the wolves.

Corruption, deceit, and manipulation reigned over them like unseen and unknown gods they unwittingly paid tribute to every time they shrugged off their promises about upholding truth and justice to get their way.

They were now laughing because of our newest victory. Tickled by the rush of adrenaline, paired with the pride that came from having been victorious.

I correct myself, this is not only sickening, it is _disgusting_.

Yes, we caught Bane, but what how long would _this_ incarceration last? A week? Maybe two if we're lucky, three if the prison he's kept in is now competent. But no more than that. Less than three weeks and he'll break out of this newest jail and get back on the streets. And once he got out, there was no way to assure the safety of those around him.

"Come on, Wally, why so glum?" Zatanna asked, smiling from her spot next to Robin. Her voice was irritating, to say the least, and made me frown deepen even further.

She was another problem. Too innocent. Too young. She didn't have any malice; and believe me, she didn't deserve to have any of it; and if she did, it was directed at the wrong person. Too new to the game, too green to take seriously. Yet she demanded respect as if she were a veteran, demanded to be seen as part of the hero community even though she had not worn those tights for longer than a few months.

Even though I wanted to sneer at her and explain every single reason as to why I was glum, I decided to give and fake my way through yet another uncomfortable conversation. With charming smile taking over my features, I shrugged, "I'm not glum, Zee. Is it hard to believe I sometimes think?"

She only laughed her annoying laugh, all the while Robin chuckled in pure ease.

God, I was already tired of this. Of _them_. Don't get me wrong, there is still a part deep inside of me that loves this team. I didn't really want to see any ill come to them, even though I wanted them to open their fucking eyes.

I wanted off of this team. I wanted to do what was right, what these so called heroes weren't ready to do. To go over the line they weren't ready to cross. The freedom to do whatever I wanted without having to worry about someone looking over my shoulder, deeply upset about my actions and thoughts.

"Oh, come on, Baywatch, stop joking!"

This _enchantress_ \- there was no way to get around this fact, no matter how much I wished it; the female was a mistress of deception and seduction- was the bane of my existence.

Without a doubt, Artemis was the main cause of my troubles with the Team. Bad blood doesn't necessarily equate to bad person. But she sure wasn't the poster girl for victorious hero that rose up from the ruins of a villainous family.

Masks were something I was constantly surrounded by. Not just in my hero work, but also in my regular life. I acted the parts that were set before me to keep everyone that mattered in my life happy. As a hero, I was the bumbling flirt known as Kid Flash. As a civilian, I was the bubbly and nerdy Wally West that always cracked horrible science puns. My true self was dangerous to show off, so I kept it hidden under layers of lies to keep it from hurting my loved ones.

Artemis wore her masks to protect no one but herself. Green Arrow's niece my ass, no one related to that man could ever be this horrible.

The loathing that bubbled up within me licked at my mouth, begged me to let her know that I was onto her little game. But I stifled it down, made the roaring forest fire within me become a much tamer campfire, something to warm me, but not hurt me.

"I'm not joking, Arty. I just like to think sometimes." I told her in an unimpressed deadpan, then stood up from my chair to look over the rest of the Mountain.

Everything was normal in this place. The Team's headquarters had not changed ever since I had stepped foot into it, and I was glad for this. The living room was still the same, still had the same furniture, still had the television turned onto static for Superboy's enjoyment.

It was nice to know that, even with all the changes I wanted in my life, there was still some kind of stability.

Although... Maybe I shouldn't _want_ that stability if I truly wanted things to change.

"I'm going back to Central." I muttered hastily as I began to walk away from the teenagers sat around me.

My footsteps thundered in my ears, but it wasn't because of there being silence in the Mountain. Instead it was because I was always self aware of myself, my body, my mind. Everything I did was always extremely clear to me, always at the forefront of my mind.

The sudden exit, though, was cut off when I felt a hand fall onto my shoulder. So I stopped walking, shoes squeaking minutely against the floor beneath me, and turned to find Kaldur'ahm looking at me. His gray eyes were somewhat clouded, although I was unclear as to why this was. "Why are you leaving so soon, my friend?"

I offered him a lopsided smile, actually saddened to be leaving him. Even with his faulty views on loyalty, he was a good leader, a good teammate, and an even better friend. "Christmas is getting closer and Finals are kicking my ass, man. I have to study if I want to continue patrolling."

There was tension in his whole demeanor, and his nod was stiff. But I didn't comment on it, more than aware that the Wally West they knew wasn't supposed to notice things like that.

So I smiled, offered a jaunty little salute, then walked towards the Zeta to return to my hometown.

Undoubtedly, they all thought I'd return to my house. Which, in a way, I was doing. But not straight away. Before I returned to the one building I just about hated with all of my heart, I had a little pit stop to make.

As I ran down the streets of Central to get to Keystone- the League had decided that there was only need for one Zeta with speedsters involved-, I reviewed the details of the case I was working on at the moment.

Even though gangs were usually the objects of my loathing, I was not blinded to all the different kinds of criminals in the world. And, although serial killers were a bit of an anomaly to find working actively, one man had managed to find his way onto my radar.

When I had gone to my uncle's lab to give him the lunch he'd forgotten at home, I'd found the scientists there reviewing the details of a recent string of murders of women with very little things to connect them.

None of the victims had shared hair color, eye color, even physical height or build. But, they had all lived in some nice communities in Central or Keystone, and they were all found raped numerous times, with their bras and jewelry missing. 'Whore' had been written on their bare chests with the lipstick they had resting in their purses.

The killer had not been easy to track down. He had been good at covering most of his tracks. And he was even better at hiding his depraved thoughts from the rest of the world. Without a doubt in my mind, this bastard was sick and his existence needed to be _ceased_.

This bastard just happened to be my English teacher.

* * *

Recordings of the victims, tapes of their final moments, missing jewelry, almost missed evidence... The incompetence shown by the investigating minds in this case was annoying, but not baffling. Central and Keystone were busy cities, the deaths of some women weren't necessarily the most pressing issue. Especially when it had taken almost a month to figure out that they were all linked to one killer, and not just random rapes and robberies.

After I had reviewed my notes one final time with Mr. James, he had dismissed me. So I had gone towards the parking lot, heading straight towards his slick and well kept car.

My heart beat with excitement. And the smile that now rested on my face was one I couldn't get rid of.

There was always a giddy kind of excitement before a well deserved kill. I called it my justice jitters, something that let me know I could still feel happy.

Once I was at the car, I picked the lock and opened the passenger's door.

Just like the outside, the inside was kept clean and well organized. There was nothing out of place in this car, and, in all honesty, it seemed as if there were just _nothing_ within. There was literally nothing inside of the car other than a clean interior. No cups or mugs, no hastily thrown paperwork, _nothing._

But, if there was one thing I knew, it was that appearances were _always_ deceiving.

The glove compartment was my first guess as to where Mr. James might be hiding something incriminating. But when I had opened it, it was only to find the car's instruction manual, a bunch of nicely organized receipts, and music CD.

"Nothing illegal 'bout crappy taste in music..."

The CD was one that had a too happy looking band on it, most wearing lederhosen.

I chucked it behind me without a single care, then pulled out the rest of the things that were inside of the compartment. Only to be met with a dark bottom, nothing incriminating showing off.

But there was something off about this. I knew it. There was a voice in the back of my head that there must have been _something_ inside of the car.

The time between the women's kidnapping and their deaths all pointed to a rough two hours of being in this guy's hands. Which meant that he needed to be fast about his work. And the distance between the victims' homes and their final graves was huge, only crossed in car.

As I sucked at my bottom lip, I took a chance and knocked on the bottom of the compartment. It looked somewhat hollow to me, but this was also an older car model. I could have been- "Hollow. This shit's hollow."

Immediately I began to work on ripping out the fake bottom. And as soon as I had gotten rid of the make-shift cover and thrown it out, I found quite the welcomed sight.

A knife. Long, elegant, and thick enough to match the stab wounds in the women's bodies.

"Bingo."

If my smile had been uncontrollable before, there was no way to describe it now.

From the backpack on my shoulders, I pulled out my thick black gloves and grabbed the knife.

Mr. James was a smart man. But not smart enough.

"Now... If I were a sick and deprived bastard that needed to keep my trophies with me at all times, where would I leave them?" I murmured to myself in a completely amused way, more than sure of where I would be checking for evidence next.

I walked over to the door beside me and opened it, peering into the backseats.

Appearances in this car were deceiving. There would be nothing within the center console, it was too obvious. Especially for trophies that came from women. And if the murder weapon was kept close to him, accessible enough even though it was hidden, then he would have kept the underwear close too.

"Those seats look awfully nice."

With a twirl of the knife, I slammed it down onto the nearest chair and pulled it down. Peering within, I found that there was a thin layer of underwear, and, beneath, there was what looked like leather, "Son of a bitch covered the chairs with the trophies, then covered them up."

Smart. Not many would think to search a car so deeply. But I wasn't the many. And I had been around people like him before. This wasn't my first rodeo.

There was enough evidence in the car to show off that he was the killer. My only question right now happened to be just where in the world he'd kept the jewelry.

Night had fallen and darkness wrapped over me like a comforting blanket. I'd always relished in the darkness, it had brought me comfort when the light had forsaken me. This was my element.

Mr. James' room was dark as I entered. But I could hear him rummaging around his desk, loud and clumsy.

Slowly, I scraped the blade of the knife against the desks I passed. The slight vibrations that came from the friction was tantalizing, a kind of pre-show before the main event.

Once I neared his desk, I clasped both my hands behind my back to hide the knife. Then I cleared my throat, causing the man sorting his files to suddenly jump and throw his papers all around him.

I smirked down at him as his green eyes stared up at me. He was startled.

"Jesus, Wallace, you scared me." He huffed out, only to glare down at the fallen papers. "Did you leave something?"

I looked away, and my eyes fell on a painting of the nine muses as they danced around a fire.

Mr. James' room had always made the females of the school feel uneasy. There were paintings of all kinds of women in different poses, most provocative and undermining. Quite frankly, I felt violated myself whenever I walked in here. "You know, I never understood that." I offered conversationally, turning back to look at him.

I actually did understand why men were sometimes disgusting pigs thought of women as mere objects to toy around with for their amusement. Not all men, mind you. But there were too many of them in the world as it was. Just look at my English Teacher.

He pushed up his thick glasses, "Just what are you doing here, Wallace?"

"I asked you a question." I grunted, eyes narrowing slightly, "Why do the muses have to be depicted like that?" I pressed on. "I mean, what kind of society do we live in where women only get their point across when they're naked?"

The annoyance that had etched itself into his features slowly morphed into confusion. His brown eyes shined with lack of understanding. And it sickened me.

"What are you going on about? I don't understand."

I sighed, my right arm beginning to twitch in excitement. I never could control my jitters when my targets played dumb. "No, you wouldn't, Mr. James," As I sighed, I looked away from him and towards the painting once more. "you agree too much with those ways."

"Just what-"

"Have you heard about the most recent string of murders?"

He was most probably caught off-guard by this question, if his quickened breathing pace was an indicator. But I didn't look at him. Instead I continued to gaze at the painting to my left, taking note of how Urania with her globe and compass in hand seemed to be a bit too chummy with Clio, the history muse's scrolls at her feet.

"Really, it's just sad. Five women raped and killed because a despicable man got horny."

"I-I don't understand why you're telling me this. But I don't find this funny." His voice gained some force, but he was still a sniveling little rat. "Now please leave my room!"

"Did you know the police weren't able to link the women to the same killer until today?" Now I turned to look at him, my eyes slicing into his own, "Apparently, he crossed jurisdictional lines, killed in different parts; out of Keystone and Central even. Rumor has it the son of a bitch stole the women's bras and jewelry, most probably as trophies..." I drifted off, then smirked. "But, I think he needs those to get off."

"H-how do you know that?"

Really, it was sad how he gave himself up so easily. I had hoped for a bit more fire coming from a man that had raped and murdered so many women. But, I shouldn't have hoped for so much. These kinds were always disappointing whenever it came to a confrontation.

"You know, the real reason police caught on was because of his short cooling off period. Only a week _at most_ between each kill." I started to walk around his desk and towards him, reveling in the fear that was now clear in his eyes. "It's actually disappointing, Mr. James. You're a teacher, you should know better than to keep your instruments in your car. There are people like me out there." My voice grew darker and lower, then I pulled out the knife he had kept in his car.

Terrified eyes widened. A shivering body tensed. And the man looked as if he had been ready to bolt. But I moved quicker than him and, in the blink of an eye, I had his knife held up against his neck.

It took him a few seconds, but eventually the man raised his hands up, "Now, Wallace, don't do anything you might regret."

I cocked my head to the side, and asked, "Do you regret what you did?"

"Yes! I didn't mean to!" He gasped, yet there was no sign of remorse in his face.

The tears in his eyes weren't regretful ones. They were angered ones.

I shrugged and lowered the knife, taking a step back. "Something funny actually, what you just said. 'You didn't mean to'... Once, I would have believed. Maybe even twice. But you just kept on killing. And those _weren't_ accidents."

Before he could even try and squeal his way out of this predicament, Mr. James found himself with his knife lodged into his shoulder.

A scream that might have been described by others as blood curdling escaped his lips, making my whole body warm up.

Here came the fun part.

Stalking targets was always fun. Finding out every little detail about their lives gave me the very sense of power they felt when they pulled these stunts. But, quite frankly, being patient had never been one of my strong points. I much preferred action. So I loved the act of killing much more than the act of preparing.

The man was gasping out in short breaths, face red with tears staining his cheeks. Pity. Some people just weren't made for pain.

"Psycho's got your tongue?" I asked innocently as I crouched down beside him, then pulled the knife out of his shoulder as harshly as I could.

He screamed once more and this time I smiled broadly. "Now, now, Mr. James, _the fun's just beginning_."

Suddenly he began to breathe much harsher, eyes so wide they looked as if they would pop out of his skull. "How did you get that?"

I didn't answer him and instead observed the bloodied knife. Even in the darkness, I could see the liquid oozing down the blade and towards the hilt. "I'm surprised you thought you could keep your secret for so long. And quite frankly, I'm disappointed in you." I lowered the knife to wipe it off on his shirt, causing him to flinch and try to move away from it. "You've got a pretty bad track record with the females of this school... It was only a matter of time before someone figured out you weren't quite right in the head."

"You know-"

"You're right." I interrupted him, smirking down at him as he glared up at me, "you're _exactly_ like the women you killed."

He was stunned and silent for a second. Then he shouted out, "I'm nothing like those whores!"

"Shut up!" I slapped him with my left hand and sneered down at him. He stared wide-eyed at me, but wisely chose to keep quiet. "See? That wasn't so hard, now was it?" I asked him with amusement dripping off of my ever word. "Now, you say you're not. But look where you are. At the mercy of someone supposedly weaker than you."

He glared up at me, undoubtedly insulted, and tried to push me off. But that wasn't a very wise move because I was a thousand times faster than him. My left hand was on his neck before he had even tried to move an inch. "How does that feel?" I hissed, "How does it feel to have your life slowly fade away as a mad man wills it to go?"

For a few seconds, he spluttered. But I decided to give him some time- as I still choked him, of course- because I hated when targets didn't speak up for themselves.

When he didn't answer, I lifted his head up and smashed it against the floor. The tile cracked beneath the violent force. "Answer me, you worthless son of a bitch!"

He spluttered uncontrollably, causing a sick smile to form on my lips. "Isn't this what you did? Aside from raping them repeatedly, of course." He gasped and his hands finally raised up to claw at mine, trying to fight me off.

I _hated_ when my targets were spineless rats. It sickened me to think that people like these had once thought themselves on top, only to let go of those grandiose notions when the going got tough.

Slowly, I leaned down over his body so my lips were right beside his ear. The puffs of air he was struggling to get tickled my own ear, causing a pleased shiver to travel down my spine. "It's because of people like you I'm not afraid to act." I whispered right against him, then proceeded to stab him repeatedly.

Blood got everywhere. My clothes were splattered with it by the time I was finished, but I didn't mind. It was about time I got rid of these old things, anyway.

He screamed and gasped and pleaded. By my stabs never became weaker. If anything, his cries for mercy spurned me on, begged me to hurt him worse so he could feel what he had done to those women.

After the tenth stab, I got up and made to walk out, leaving him to die in his own blood. His wounds were enough to cause death, but it wouldn't be immediate. He'd choke on the blood now filling his lungs before he bled out.

There was no witty final comment. I'd already said everything I had wanted and there was no need to ruin the symphony that was his choked gasps. I threw his knife onto his body, offered him a cocky smile and a jaunty wave, then left the school to speed back to my house.

Once there, I rushed up to my room and towards my bathroom to take off my clothes. After I'd done that, I took a shower and got all of the blood off of me. With all of that over with, I made my way towards the furnace in the basement, opened it, and threw my bloodied clothes inside of it. With the heat turned up, those would be nothing but ashes by the time the police came knocking tomorrow morning.

As I walked up the stairs and towards my living room, I hummed simple tune to myself. Then I threw myself onto my sofa and turned on the television, settling in to wait for my parents to come back.

Today was their 'date' night. A night in which they got rid of me and forgot about the shitholes their lives had become. '

There was no doubt about the sheriff knocking on our door tomorrow morning to ask me about any information I would have about my deceased school teacher. I had been the last student to leave his office; of course there would be questions. But I was prepared to answer any and all questions, more than accustomed to fooling law enforcement.

Having Barry Allen as an uncle had helped prepare me for this part of my job.

..~..~..

There have been a few things about this story that have always bothered me. But I never got around to fixing them until now because... Well... Inspiration. I want to post the sequel. But I felt like I needed to fix this story up first before I did that.

Some things will be changed. Some things will stay the same. I can't say with complete certainty just what will be different, but I can assure you of one thing: The chapters will be a hell of a lot longer than before. I can't stop myself from trying to make everything perfect, although I usually fail at this.

So, please remember to review and tell me what you think about this whole situation.


	2. Chapter 1

A new day meant new opportunities to try and fix this decrepit world.

I woke up with a lightness surrounding me I only felt after a well deserved killing. My whole outlook suddenly became sunny because, if I was able to take care of one bad guy, then I could undoubtedly take care of them all.

The mornings after killing a bastard were always the best.

As I expected, the department's sheriff strolled up an hour after I had woken up and knocked on our front door. My father answered the knock and spoke a bit with the woman, all the while mom and I prepared our breakfast in silence.

Mornings with my family were never warm. My parents weren't necessarily the most tender of people, and they weren't the kind to show any kind of love if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

"Wally! Sheriff wants to talk to you!"

"Coming, dad!"

As I passed by my mother as she ate the kitchen counter, I could see her begin to shake her head. A few seconds after, I heard her scoff and murmur about having a no-good troublemaker for a son.

When I got to the living room, it was to find a blonde haired woman with haunted green eyes sitting down on our recliner. Rudolph was on the couch. And he quickly motioned for me to sit beside him, apparently already accustomed to procedure when a minor was to be questioned by law enforcement.

"What's up?" I questioned my father, then looked over at the woman with a completely innocent curious expression on my face. "Did something bad happen?"

"Unfortunately, it did, son." The woman breathed out, shoulders slumped, "Your English teacher, Mr. James, was murdered last night in his classroom."

I felt nothing but happiness upon hearing this. There wasn't any doubt in my mind about the man's death, I made sure to hit everything that would cause a fatality. Call it the sickness within me, I became happy just from hearing about the bastard's ultimate demise.

"No way!" I gasped out, eyes widening in what I knew was a face of unsuspecting shock; I'd seen it on others dozens of times, I knew how to replicate it. "I was with him just last night!"

"It's a tragedy, but there's no way to get away from it, son." The woman murmured, eyes shifting downwards before she cleared her throat and looked up at me. "An investigation has begun to try and make sense of what is happening. The picture is rather muddled, but we're trying to clear it up..." The woman... The sadness in her voice made her sound as if she knew the victim personally. "I need to ask you some questions. Is that alright? I already asked your father, and he had no problem."

For a second, I looked at my father with unsure eyes. Not because I wasn't sure about what I was doing. But because he usually wasn't the kind of guy that allowed me to do anything that might bring ill onto the family.

With a stiff nod, he motioned for me to look back at the woman.

So I did. And I answered all of her questions with a tone that was completely honest and genuine. A voice I had perfected over years of having to lie my way out of all the situations people thought were appropriate for Wally West.

If there was anything that I was truly proud of, it was the fact that I was able to seem like a normal, run of the mill teenager at the drop of a hat. My acting skills were superb; no one questioned my real intentions.

The questions were routine ones, simply wanting to make sure that I had, in fact, been the last person to have seen my teacher alive. They were all easy to answer and the Sheriff had seemed somewhat relieved with knowing that everything had been normal during our little study session.

"Although, I gotta tell you," I murmured after a while, my eyes narrowed down at the floor as I put on a thinking face, "He had a paper sticking out of his desk."

"And why would that be of any importance?" The woman questioned, clearly intrigued.

"Well, Mr. James was a stickler for cleanliness." I shrugged, scratching at the back of my head as I looked her in the eyes. "He always had everything in its place and never left anything out of it. For him to have a paper sticking out was kind of odd."

This paper had been the reason why Mr. James had been scavenging through his desk the past night when I had gone to end him. A simple paper I had snuck in before Wally had met him to review notes.

I knew what the paper was and what it said. Mr. James had undoubtedly been able to read it, but had not been able to connect two and two. And the police had clearly missed it among all of the scattered papers left on the floor.

Pursing my lips slightly, I finished with an unconvincing, "Just found it weird."

The blonde woman seemed to look for something within my face. As if she wanted to find all of the answers to this case in just _my face_. So I stared back at her with a completely open and confused look, carefully schooling my features to conceal any kind of knowledge I held.

"I guess we'll have to look in on that." The woman offered after a few seconds, then stood up and straightened her jacket out. "Thank you very much for allowing me this interview, Rudolph."

"Of course." He stood up quickly, motioned for the woman to begin walking out of the home, "Is that all? I'll walk you out."

Sometimes, I wondered just how I was so good at fooling everyone around me. But then I took a look at how my parents interacted with normal members of society and I didn't have to ponder anymore. Acting skills, apparently, were hereditary.

My feet padded almost mutely against the rug that encased my whole floor as I made my way back into the kitchen. The birds were still chirping, it was still rather early in the morning. And, after a few seconds, I could hear Rudolph and the sheriff talking outside of the house.

I began to serve myself some of the leftover coffee as I listened to the muffled words, then leaned against the microwave as I my red mug heated up. Once the contraption dinged to signal the end of the heating, I heard a car being started up- the sheriff was leaving.

As a speedster, one would expect my drinking coffee to bump up my heartrate to near deadly levels and cause me to become an insufferable chatter box. But to me, coffee worked like a tea, as a sort of sedative. It helped calm and soothe me rather than excite me.

The police having missed my calling card was something I had expected. It had been lost among the rest of the bastard's papers when I had scared him last night. But now that Wally West had nudged them in the right direction, I was sure that the sheriff would begin to see this man differently.

The sheriff... She must have had some sort of connection to the guy to have seemed so heartbroken about his death. But I was sure that once the truth came out, she would regret ever having felt anything positive towards that waste of oxygen.

Drinking the hot coffee helped center me, aided in pushing away the wonderful memories of Mr. James' last moments.

Even though there was nothing I loved more than relishing in a kill, I had other work to do. Work that needed to be finished sooner rather than later, seeing how I had quite the busy agenda with the Team and my own school.

After my Final Exams ended, I would be able to focus on only two responsibilities rather than three. But, until then, I would need to continue juggling three very different realms of living.

As I drank, I grabbed an apple from the arrangement on the counter and looked at my surroundings.

My kitchen was supposed to be perceived as a nice and cozy one, designed for ease of access and decorated for a chill kind of luxury that my mother loved to show off. Even though we weren't rich, she liked to believe she deserved only the best in life.

It was such a fake atmosphere that I found myself wondering just why this was considered anything near beauty more times than not. How did people not choke on the fumes that emanated from these plastic and inhuman contraptions?

After I had eaten my whole apple and drained my mug, I did away with my waste and made my way towards my room. Once there, I grabbed my beat up old backpack from the very back of my closet and bounded down the stairs. Once on the first floor, I shouted up at the top to let my parents know that I wouldn't be at the house for the rest of the day.

"I'm gonna head over to the library and study all day! Don't expect me to come back until way late!"

I was outside of my house's front door before I heard any kind of acknowledgement. Not like I would get any. My parents didn't care where I went as long as I came back without the police on my ass.

Today was a free day from school; we were allowed a day in between tests to rest and study up. And the Team had allowed me to take the day off as well for this very reason, the Bat thought I needed to study.

I wouldn't be studying today. I really didn't need to. English was easy, just like every other subject I was made to learn about in school. Everything was easy to me, there was no way to get around it. But I didn't need people knowing just how truly smart I could be, so I only allowed myself to excel in the science and math branches. English, Art, History, P.E: these were all subjects that made Wally West normal, made him be less of a genius. And that's just the way I liked it.

Today's schedule was filled, just like yesterday's. Luckily enough, though, I wouldn't have to worry about dealing with any pesky liars, A.K.A. the Young Justice Team. I only had to focus on just one thing today. Well, one _person_ : Cesare Anastasia. And dealing with that person meant having to go down to Archer Central.

Star City was bursting with gang life. Ollie and Roy were doing a somewhat okay job of keeping the lid over the powder keg that was their city, but I had to step in. I needed to go inside and clean up the mess those two weren't even aware of being right beneath their noses. Gang violence was on an increase due to civil unrest, crime was slowly but steadily reaching the records from years ago, and those two weren't even aware of this.

Cesare Anastasia said he was Albert Anastasia's great grandson. And, like the Mad Hatter himself, Cesare had a knack for violence and wasn't very good when it came to sharing. He didn't play nice with others. And this had caused him to become rather powerful rather quick.

Cesare wanted to instill mob rule over the underworld of Star. Delusional was a word I would use to describe him; he wanted to bring back a bygone era that was best left in the past. He wanted gangsters to dress in suits, follow the mob hierarchy, and the police to forever be in the family's pockets. With this, he also wanted to see the streets flooded with drugs to be able to gain a wonderful income from the suffering of others.

Mr. James had been high on my hit list because he was an immediate danger to _my_ city. But Cesare now had the great fortune of finding himself on the top, seeing how the English teacher had been dealt with.

Really, I was amazed at how I had managed to keep my head when it came to this bastard. Cesare had boasted throughout the underground about how he would be able to take on any kind of superpowered freak that came at him, he was _unbeatable._ And I couldn't just allow this guy to run his mouth. I didn't take lightly to anybody saying that they were better than me. It's actually because of this that I'm surprised I haven't lashed out at Artemis for her constant boasting about how she's better.

I had to put up with Artemis' shit for the sake of the Team... I did _not_ have to put up with Cesare's. Not anymore.

My backpack was a ratty little thing that no one would suspect. It was old, had clearly seen its fair amount of use, and looked inconspicuous enough to not draw too much attention.

If anyone were to look inside, they'd be caught completely off guard. Because within, there were more than a few _more than just conspicuous_ things. The attire I wore on my hunts was hidden within, along with all of my weapons and instruments.

Last night, I had not worn my uniform because it would have been a hassle explaining to my team why I was dragging my old backpack around. And then, if I had returned home before I had gone to meet my teacher, I would have to shut off the alarm. And this would have alerted my parents as to my return, which would have done no good. That, coupled with the fact that there aren't any cameras on school grounds and that there was only one person that would see me in my work, Mr. James, had made me decide to just not wear the wardrobe.

But now, I would have to deal with more than just one person. Along with various different cameras set to protect the grounds I would hunt on. Even though I was excellent in my work, there was always room for error. And it was better for me to be captured wearing this uniform, rather than someone actually seeing my face.

Trench coat, cowboy hat, boots, gloves, and black bandanna were my uniform. The coat was long and dark, covered in all kinds of unseeable blood stains because of the color. The hat had been a gift and I wore it with pride, and it helped cover up my rather striking hair. The bandanna covered up my face, preventing the lower half of my face from being seen. And the gloves were just thick enough to not allow any finger prints to be left anywhere I went.

Admittedly, I had chosen a cowboy persona without any hesitation or doubt. I had willingly picked the hat and bandanna to make myself look like a dustbowl avenger, as if I had stepped out of a Clint Eastwood movie. Partly because it was so different from Kid Flash and Wally West that _no one_ would connect the dots. But it had mostly been chosen because of my savior, the true Vigilante. The man who had saved my sorry ass when I had needed it the most.

The man that had let me see the truth of this wretched shithole I called a world.

* * *

It was a pitiful kind of funny to see someone's whole demeanor change when their life was threatened.

The squealer wasn't any older than twenty, was taller than me by a few inches, and had some muscle over me. But with the revolver jammed right against his temple, he could've been the smallest man in the world. The bitch was at my mercy.

"I swear, that's all I know!"

"Yuh sure? Is that _really_ all yuh know?"

I tended to adopt a southern accent whenever I had to speak while I was at work. It wasn't a purely aesthetic reason, I'd chosen this to make myself as alike to the true Vigilante as possible. Even though our methods were very different, and I was much smaller and younger than him, the world didn't necessarily know that. I was now called the new Vigilante. And even though this had struck a mortal blow to the real Vigilante's career, he'd accepted it with true grace. I was now the Vigilante the world knew. Even though I wasn't the _true_ Vigilante. That would always be him.

Tears streamed down his face and he whimpered as he struggled to remain frozen against the wall behind him. But I merely cocked my head to the side, quirked one eyebrow up, and made a show of releasing the safety on the gun.

"Warnin'," I began with an easy drawl, completely at ease with my actions. Holding a gun against a guy's head wasn't even _close_ to the worst thing I had ever done in my life. "Withholdin' information from the vigilante _will_ result in permanent bodily harm. Possibly from a bullet ta the _brain_."

A sharp, whimpered gasp came from his lips, then the man finally broke. I had known he'd been keeping something from me when I'd asked him about Cesare's whereabouts. My gut was _never_ wrong.

"O-okay! Please, don't k-kill me!" He pleaded, eyes blood red as they bore into my own. I merely shifted before I forcibly turned his head to look at the gun, my finger pressing threateningly over the trigger. "He has a new bodyguard!"

An unseen smile found its way onto my lips. "Is that right?" I questioned, intrigued. "What's this new feller's name?"

"I don't know!"

I just shoved the gun right between his eyes, forcing him to quite literally look down the barrel of his to be murder weapon, and squeezed the trigger a little tighter. Immediately, he began to sing like a canary.

... Wonder if Black Canary would sing like him if I had a gun pointed to her face...

"Okay! He's under the protection of a man called the Hood! The Red Hood!"

I growled at this and put my gun back into its holster. This was taking up too much time, so I decided it was about time to make living seem like a much bigger torture than dying. "Either you give me the answer I'm looking for, or you start losing fingers." I growled as I grabbed his right hand and forced it against the wall, then pulled out my outlaw bowie.

It wasn't a flashy knife. It wasn't meant to look pretty. It's main function was to get the job done. And boy, did it look menacing when pointed at someone's hand.

A strangled yelp escaped him as the knife glinted in the moonlight, eyes wide and clearly terrified. "Okay! Okay! The Hood's in there as a body guard to DiMaggio! H-he asked to be protected from the people that would show up!"

"Wasn't the Red Hood the Joker?" I knew this bit from Robin. Joker had once been a small time hood before he'd fallen into some nasty serum that had driven him cuckoo.

Even though I had asked this more to myself, the squealer still offered his piece.

"I-I don't know! The people from Gotham are crazy, you know?"

My smirk had become cruel at this point, I knew this, but I didn't mind. I just dragged the knife from the palm of his hand all the way towards his neck, "Answerin' ain't that hard. See?" I murmured softly, "Now tell me all yuh know 'bout the Hood. An' then I won't have ta deal with yuh no more."

"I-I don't know much about him!" He cried. "H-he showed up a year or two ago and now he's running most of the gangs!"

"What's his policy?"

Every man like him, a man that had gangs under his _control_ \- because protection to these guys meant control-, had a policy to protect them. For some you had to pay a hell of a lot of money. For others you needed to follow all his rules, and if not... well... Let's say you'd be better off dead. Even some of the things these guys did were horrendous to me.

"No giving drugs to kids! Y-you can't drag anyone younger than eighteen into this life!"

I nodded at this, feeling a revolting sense of respect for this 'Hood', then slammed the squealer against the wall. "Is that all?"

"That's all I know! I swear!"

"Is that right?" I questioned, smiling at the idea that came into my mind.

He stopped sniffling and crying at this question, but when I moved the knife's tip to touch his neck, he answered, "Yeah, it is! I don't know anything else!"

For a moment, I allowed him to hope. I slowly moved the knife away from his neck and took a step back, allowing him to breathe.

The light that entered his eyes in that split second... It was _intoxicating_.

It's a shame it had to end so quickly.

Swiftly, I plunged my knife into his stomach. Momentarily, I found myself lamenting the sudden shift in his eyes. From bright and hopeful, they had just gone straight into dark and disbelieving. But then he began to splutter and gasp like a fish out of water, and that was a symphony to my ears. And when I twisted the knife, ensuring his consequent death from the huge ass hole it would be leaving in him, he let out quite the beautiful scream.

As I slid the knife out of his body, finding no trouble because of the nice little holster I had created within him, I moved my head so that I could whisper into his ear and he could hear me without any trouble. "Too bad yuh didn't know nothin' more... Coulda used some more information."

His breath hitched and he keened in pain.

I just took a few steps back and watched as he fell to his knees, then slammed his face against the concrete below. Blood flowed from him and soon encompassed his body like a halo. The only beautiful thing to come from him.

Stepping out of the piss and alcohol infested alley, I wiped the blood off of my knife on my coat. Then, once sure it was dry enough to return to its proper place, I placed it within the holster attached to my thigh.

The moon tonight was rather beautiful. A perfect full moon. Somewhat clouded, I could smell humidity that foreshadowed rain. Just the perfect atmosphere to make a mobster worry over his life.

After a few minutes of just staring up at the beautiful sky, I decided to get a move on and made my way towards the warehouse district.

Quite frankly, it was appalling how most major cities had warehouse districts. It was as if the government _wanted_ criminals to use these places as hideouts to rule from. But, then again, they most probably _did_. If the criminals were disgusting, the government was _vile_. They were even more corrupted than my own team. But I couldn't risk cleaning _that_ up. It would ruin our whole system if I did. So I just worked on those that were seen as completely bad to not have to mess with the ticking time bomb that was the government.

Anastasia had holed himself up in an abandoned steel making warehouse. This was their center of distribution, from where they handled boatloads of drugs and weapons that were smuggled into Star.

My whole day had been spent digging around the nastiest holes of Star to try and find _someone_ that had worked for Anastasia.

If there was one thing I could respect about this man, it was that he could clean up his tracks rather well. Most that worked for him where either completely loyal, or never found. So having found that little squealer had taken all of my day. But it had been worth it, seeing how I now knew everything I would need to take care of this bastard for good.

Of course, I'd had to scavenge around the underbelly for a while. Which meant that there had been more than just that one guy's deaths today.

The silence that surrounded me as I sneaked around the center of distribution was not lost on me. My steps thundered within my ears, much too loud for my liking. But I tried my best to not think on this too much, seeing how I was _always_ aware of my body.

A little voice in the back of my head told me that I might be walking into a trap. But hearing this made me smirk. And I couldn't help but voicing my confidence out loud, "A trap fer them, yuh mean."

The roof of the warehouse was solid concrete. There was no way to peer into the inner working of the building through it. But just as I was wondering myself how I would be able to spy on the people inside, I heard the answer to my unasked question.

"Did you hear 'bout Joey?"

"Yeah, killed by that Vigilante a coupl'a hours ago."

"You think he's coming here?" The biggest and dumbest looking one questioned. He seemed genuinely concerned by my visit.

 _Good_.

"Could be. But, remember, we're under the Hood's protection. He can't hurt us none." The last one spoke with a confidence that could be heard even though his voice faded as he and his little colleagues began to leave my sight, leaving me with a smirk.

Ah, Joey. I remembered that guy. He'd been the first man I had questioned. But he'd been tight lipped, the stupidly loyal kind. I'd left him dumped in the back of the dump he'd been drinking in before I'd left to find another, more willing, informant.

It seemed news traveled fast in Star.

This Hood feller must really have been something to make these bastards feel safe even though they knew I was on the case. The Vigilante wasn't just some run of the mill murderer. I'd made sure to make a name for myself. So for them to feel actually safe... Well, I guess I would need to see just who this Hood was.

Quietly, hidden within the shadows, I trailed after the group. And when one had found himself having to tie his shoe, hence being left behind by his friends, I took the chance and left a bug on the edge of his jacket. I had literally walked up to him and placed it on him, but he didn't know this. All he knew was that he'd been smacked by a sudden gust of wind at one point as he'd tied his shoes.

They'd seemed to be on patrol. Because, after they'd walked the whole warehouse's perimeter, they had entered.

They were out of sight and I wasn't about to run into this situation without making sure I had my ducks in a row. So I ran up to the roof and settled into a crook that was unseen by the cameras around the place- a shame, really, that there was such a blatant blind spot in the security. Once comfortable, I pulled out my little Bat Computer- an unwitting gift from the Bat himself that I had managed to snag while Uncle Barry and I had worked with the bats-, and began to listen in on my bug.

What I heard at first was the usual mindless chatter, dull hum of machinery, and a bit of laughter here and there.

Soon enough, though, I heard the voice of the man I had come to kill.

 _"What happened with Joey?"_

The voice was one I knew. Anastasia. He had a deep voice, heavy with disinterest, with a small hint of an Italian lilt.

 _"Murdered by the Vigilante."_ The man I had bugged, the big oaf that had seemed genuinely worried about dying, answered back.

There was a scoff, then a new voice I could not pinpoint spoke up, _"You're getting your asses kicked by what very well could be a teenager."_

My eyes widened at this, immediately feeling anger beginning to bubble up within me. _"And why do you think that?"_

 _"... Just got a hunch..."_

 _"There's no way a kid could have done this!"_ The thug exclaimed and I agreed. There _was_ no way some kid could have done this. Because I wasn't _a kid_.

 _"Do you know how many sidekicks there are on this Earth? Robin's only thirteen and more than capable of taking down a man twice his size. Don't underestimate the wonders of this world."_

This guy's voice... It wasn't one I could place. But there was something within me that told me I _had_ heard it before. I just wasn't sure _why_ I felt like this.

 _"There is no need to bother the Red Hood, Mickey. Now get back to work."_ Cesare interrupted, letting me know that the situation may have escalated more than I could tell from just hearing them.

After this, I could hear the oaf, Mickey, muttering to himself as he clambered to his work place.

I shut off the computer. I breathed in a large gulp of air to calm the fire that wanted to spike within me. And then I smirked.

Heads would roll tonight.

..~..~..

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